There Were No Fireworks
by NessieSaysRawr
Summary: A drabble  Series? Who knows. ;D , less than 1,000 words. #1: In Which Blaine Isn't Goin' Anywhere


Tired, chapped lips dragged along his ivory profile, sometimes stopping-

-caught briefly on a dry patch of skin not yet touched by a film of perspiration, and parting lazily. Exhaling. Hot, damp, spent-_panting_-before skidding, slipping down, down to a new point on his countenance.

Lower,

lower.

Slow.

so,

so...

slowly.

At certain points, they would find themselves in the most amazing, disgustingly rare angle in which the flat of the their jaws would come together, a ghost of uneven stubble meeting cream, silk. Porcelain. They would scratch, brushing lightly, before pulling away and leaving the residual pinpricks his subconscious would send to his nerves there, toying with him, teasing him at the loss of friction.

Centuries passed, the world renewed. Stars were aligning and seasons rushing, swirling together in a mess of colors and blinding, flashing lights, and as all that was once important faded black, reality crashed around the two.

Then, the lips were finally parallel his own.

He could _taste_ him. He would breathe(or at least attempt to) in just as his lover would shudder, releasing a shaky breath that twisted and curled in the air between the two before being pulled into his own nostrils, his entire being suffusing with black coffee, peppermint toothpaste, and him,

'_G-God, him,' _

_-_andhis dry mouth was salivating once again.

The kiss was chaste, simple. Pure. There were no fireworks. Bells didn't sound.

Their joined lips made a small noise in parting, the warmth lingering afterword as a damp forehead pressed against his own. His eyes fluttered, his world came into view again.

His world, personified in half-lidded pools of hazel, clouded over and burning. There was a word for that, he knew, but the only words he had once held in his active vocabulary were long gone, banished by skin on skin and heavy breathing. It took him a few moments to gather his bearings, remembering: _Smolder. _That was it. He tried to voice his thoughts, but the only thing he could manage to draw from the fog was a choked

"Blaine..."

Barely audible. He could feel the color rising once again to his features, liquid fire warning pulse up and out of his pores, the familiar ignition spreading from the tips of his ears down along his jaw, across his cheekbones, dropping to his collar before finally making its way down through the pads of his fingertips, finally releasing their claim on the now-wrinkled bedsheets in order to tangle at the nape of a neck clad in short, dark curls.

The boy in question lowered his head a fraction to rest his closed lips on the corner of his caller's, cutting the sentiment short before shifting their position to where his bare chest was against the smaller's lean back. His head found its way into the crook of the younger boy's neck, nuzzling into his designated place like a kitten would its master's hand and uttering a small noise of content before answering.

"Hush, baby. 'love you, too."

It was gruff, throaty...and much lower than his typical tone. It was..._nice, _the voice against the sensitive skin of his throat.

_He could get used to that._

Suddenly, an unwelcome draft overtook the spot his boyfriend had previously occupied, and he made a strangled noise of shock, protest at the loss of contact-just as a new warmth came upon him-in the form of Blaine's quilt. The lower voice chuckled, before slinging an arm around his lower torso and returning to his proper place against him, his head once again burying itself into Kurt's neck.

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

-and he didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~A.N.~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, gosh. That drabble had been in my head FOREVER. I'm not usually one for writing these, but it was egging at me all week. Stupid thoughts.

It's short. I know. It's not...poetry, more like poetic...writing? I'm so_ eloquent. _Take it as you will, but this was supposed to be after Kurt and Blaine's first...well, *ahem,* (or at least their first coherent one. I always imagined his and Blaine's first time to be drunken, for some reason. 'Dunno why.) but I tried to keep it vague enough so that you prudes can still think it was the aftermath of a rather tiring makeout session.

Feel free to enter me into any kiss contests! :D 3

Erm...like me? D: I'm new here, see. *blush*

Please comment, they make me smile! I like constructive criticism. ( If you want me to continue a series of drabbles, I'm gonna need ideas. )

Love y'all.

- Nessie, of couse!


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